Every time I read this, I think of those old Play-Dough commercials or imagine myself baking bread with Julia Childs. Pliable people in pliable relationships is always best. I like how this poem is raw in its intent. The author emphatically states she wants to be stretched to, and perhaps beyond, the limits of her own space and no-time.
Untitled?? I think the work should be entitled: "When you have Play-Dough, anything goes!"
I adore this piece. Deceptively simple in presentation, the passionate flowing of words presents our human eroticism pure and true without callous immorality. Love is needed. Desire is essential. The ardent fires of a woman and a man are rightly aflame. Superb. Superb. Superb.
I loved the way you ended a very sentimental write....so surreal and passionate....I would rather say a very venation write...all a women would say...it shows very much of you...
Like Kufu says, there is an element of bread-kneading in the first stanza; the metaphors work well to convey your narrator's desire to be...no, not baked but...understood? challenged? held?
[d'oh - I stole 'knead' from your poem and only just noticed. oops]
As w.k.kortas says, this is a concrete piece of writing; the voice is strong, the language and images excellent, the message is something many of us can relate to - although you've made it very much your own.
Every time I read this, I think of those old Play-Dough commercials or imagine myself baking bread with Julia Childs. Pliable people in pliable relationships is always best. I like how this poem is raw in its intent. The author emphatically states she wants to be stretched to, and perhaps beyond, the limits of her own space and no-time.
Untitled?? I think the work should be entitled: "When you have Play-Dough, anything goes!"
This to me sounds like a head beating against the wall...for someone you wish would really get to know who you are, before it is too late and you move on to something or someone else.
Stretch me.
Take me in your hands.
Turn me this way and that.
to the Lost Boys
I am no Wendy;
but my voice brings you back to me.
And you sit around my feet,
anxious for a story
or a kiss.
Listening to my words
spinning adventures,
like so much g.. more..